Judgers and Jacklodge
by Good Old Hoxton
Summary: Earth and Remnant now share an interdimensional link. Beacon is flooded with hopeful students of all backgrounds, desperate to prove themselves in an unforgiving world. Amongst all the brave attempts to show off and gain fame, there are a few teams who just...don't care. These teams are known as JJRS and JKLJ; Judgers, and Jacklodge. This is how they deal with Beacon life.
1. It Begins

Blake wasn't really getting how this whole 'interdimensional travel' thing was of any help to Remnant.

Ever since that portal opened, other people have been coming through from a different world entirely. Sure, Remnant got new technology, she could honestly say she enjoyed her new gaming PC. And sure, more advanced weaponry and equipment could be given to Beacon students due to Remnant's governments collaborating with Earth's governments. In return for the development of artificial intelligences and combat tools on Earth, Remnant was given a huge amount of the technology they had missed. 4K screens meant that the auditorium battles could be watched outside the building in super high definition...

Oh, speaking of the auditorium and Beacon, that was another thing.

There were new students.

Like, _a lot_.

Where there once may have been one or two people per bench watching training matches between students, there were now filled rows with new teams and new faces. She was certain that some of the new students were all going to just put into practice something everyone had seen before, and judging by how one of the new humans was being thrown about by team CRDL like a ragdoll as he futilely tried to fight them off with a dagger and sword, she was probably right.

Though, Yang seemed to be enjoying herself.

"How many watching?" Blake sighed to Yang, reclining and clicking her back slightly. Her busty blonde bombshell of a partner tapped her new iPhone's screen, and checked how many were watching her stream of battles. After a brief consideration, she turned to Blake.

"Well, we've got viewers from Earth and Remnant," she replied, "But which number was it that has twelve numbers again?" Blake was about to reply, when a yell much louder than normal came from the center of the auditorium. Many people watching winced as the young lad with the sword was non-metaphorically catapulted into the wall by one of Cardin's swings. There was an audible snap, and the loser just lay there, groaning. There was silence in the hall.

Suddenly, someone piped up in what Blake understood to be a Midlands accent from 'England'. "GET FUCKIN' SHAT ON, NERD!" The male voice shouted. People began laughing as the student in the arena was escorted out by a paramedic. He noticeably limped; people from Earth seemed to have much weaker auras than those from Remnant, making them a bit more prone to injury. However, many of the new students had their own counters to the weaker aura. Many had followed in Cardin's footsteps and worn armour plating of some description. A few more cautious students wore much heavier armour, and those less inclined to be hit wore no armour at all for mobility reasons.

Blake smiled despite Cardin proudly presenting himself to the crowds in the arena floor as he made his way out. Truly, Earthborn humans could prove to make her time at Beacon even more interesting. After a few moments as the lights flicked themselves back on, Professor Goodwytch made her way to the middle of the arena, Scroll tablet in hand. "That certainly was a rather...one-sided...battle," she said calmly, adjusting her glasses but not taking off either her bored expression or her eyes from the screen in front of her. There was a collective murmur of agreement as students quietly whispered to each other, yet keeping eyes on the screen to see who was up next. "Now," Professor Goodwytch continued, "Do we have any volunteers for combat?" No hands raised, and quite a few people kept their heads down for fear of going against someone that could beat the shit out of them.

But not Blake.

Smiling, she raised a hand and waited to be noticed by her teacher. The rest of team RWBY smiled at her enthusiasm: She'd really come out of her shell since the rift opened. Professor Goodwytch finally noticed the black-haired student, and tapped on her Scroll a few times, bringing up a large picture of Blake and her aura levels on the large banner-screens above the arena. It was a relatively normal picture of her: No smiling, flat expression, and probably the only thing that might interest any of the Earthborn students would be her nearly luminous gold irises. Apparently, that would be a good conversation starter on Earth, but on Remnant, vividly coloured hair or eyes would be normal. Just a few more differences between the planets, but nothing that bothered Blake. She was mostly just anxious to have a battle with one of the new students.

"Certainly, Mrs. Belladonna," Goodwytch said calmly. "I'll find you a suitable partner." Blake reclined, and waited. Yang tapped her shoulder.

"Looks like someone's not in a _Blake _mood today," she grinned. Blake rolled her eyes and Weiss cringed beside her. "What's up with you?"

"It's just exciting," Blake replied in her usual tone, but carrying a slight more cheerfulness. "It's not often anyone gets a chance to fight a Huntsman from a different world entirely. They might have different tactics, combat styles, methods, and motivations than someone from, say, Atlas."

"I suppose," Weiss noted. The heiress was wearing her normal combat skirt with her white hair tied back. "But the only way it's affected me is that there's just been a rush of boys trying to get on my good side. Blegh." Yang laughed.

"I don't have a problem with it," she smirked, reclining and winking at a few boys on the other side of the auditorium that were looking her way. Almost all of them immediately looked away awkwardly, except one, who pointed two fingers in the universal gesture of 'call me'. "Gotta admit, Earth boys are not too harsh on the eyes." There was a synchronized eyerolling from the rest of RWBY.

"Of course you'd say that, Yang." Blake began to stand up and get ready to move downstairs. Just as she began to make a move, Professor Goodwytch spoke again.

"Mr. London, why don't you challenge Mrs. Belladonna? We haven't heard from you thus far." A massive number of eyes turned to a bronw-haired lad in the middle of the rows of seats. He was wearing a brown suit jacket with a dark brown tie, with a white shirt beneath what looked to be a simple black jersey. His face took on a worried expression as he looked around at everyone, with one side of his face bearing _very_ noticeable burn marks that gave him a facial structure similar to an undercooked piece of meat. His facial structure gave him quite a harsh appearance, contradicting how worried he looked to be. "Mr. London, please make your way to the arena floor," Professor Goodwytch ordered.

"Alright, fine," London replied in a fairly strong British accent. He stood to leave, giving the three other boys next to him fist-bumps as he went past. A fresh rise of chatter arose whilst the other students waited for the two combatants to be prepared, Blake making her way down at the same time as her opponent.

However, in the locker room, she started having second thoughts. He looked absolutely petrified. What if she hurt him unnecessarily? Human aura wasn't that strong, so she ran the risk of causing potentially lethal damage. "I'll get him into the red," she told herself as she moved through the dark, benched area, tying Gambol Shroud into her hair as she entered the arena. There was a small cheer from her friends, followed by the usual small amount of applause from everyone else as she took her place in one end of the arena. The black-haired girl looked to Professor Goodwytch. "I'm ready, Professor." Her teacher nodded.

"Excellent," she replied flatly, "Now we simply wait for Mr. London." Her response was near immediate.

"You won't be waiting very long," called a voice. Stepping out of the locker rooms on the other side of the auditorium, there came a set of heavy-set footsteps as London exited into the arena. He was wearing the brown suit he had been wearing moments before, plus a set of black metal shinguards and bracers. Upon closer inspection, the 'black jumper' was actually a bulletproof vest, and underneath the jacket of the suit, there was a small bandolier of munitions.

Additionally, slung over his body was a black sling with a green and black bullpup rifle hanging by his side, and his face was completely obscured by a mask. The mask was split down the centre, half-bright yellow and half-blood red, with the red side bearing gold tribal markings and vice versa. Blake also noticed that the left side of the mask, the same side which London's burn markings were on, was blackened and burnt slightly, giving her the understanding that he had been wearing it when whatever burned him, burned him. The eyeholes seemed to be a completely black void, not allowing Blake to see his eyes. Normally, that let her see if her opponent was feeling confident about the upcoming fight.

Now she was going to have to guess.

On the banner screen above, his school photo involved him pulling a rather unnerving grin, almost predatory. _Seems cocky_, Blake thought. _That doesn't mean he's skilled._ London looked at Blake, swung his rifle into his hands, and made his way to the opposite side of the arena.

Yang scoffed. "Oh, the tough guy act," she quietly muttered, smirking. "This should be fun."

"Will OP deliver?" someone whispered behind. Yang chuckled.

"I'm gonna guess he'll be a faggot, as usual," she grinned. Before she could make any more smug comments, a loud burst of gunfire from the centre of the ring caused her to look back. London was already firing his assault rifle at Blake, sidestepping the cat faunus' shots from Gambol Shroud with seemingly impossible ease. Blake had to dive out of the way as a few shots pinged off her aura, chipping away at her meter on the screen above. She quickly got to her feet, sprinting around the arena to avoid as many shots as possible, all the while listening for her opportunity to attack.

"Fuckin' hold STILL!" London yelled, beginning to step towards the direction Blake was likely due to head in. But, as she was nowhere near done, Blake continued moving, choosing to snap off a few shots in his direction. Almost all of the four shots missed, except for one, which slammed into his stomach. The Earthborn stopped firing for a moment and doubled over slightly, steadying himself with a leg, before quickly raising his gun again and pulling the trigger.

_Clik._

"You're kidding me," he muttered. Blake smirked, running at the wall and using it as a way to quickly change her direction in order to move and attack London. She whipped Gambol Shroud out of its sheath, and leapt up, quickly swiping at her opponent. London barely had time to dive backwards, letting go of his rifle in the process. Blake was, however, lucky enough that she successfully cut the sling of his rifle in half, sending it flying backwards across the arena and prompting a cheer.

London stepped back, and without even skipping a beat reached into the armpits of his suit jacket and pulled out a pair of large pistols. The moment he had them out, a pair of green laser pointers started shining from small modules beneath the weapons, the safety catches clicked into the 'fire' position, and he was already back to firing, emptying half of each pistol's clips before Blake could even react. The force of the large rounds smashing against her aura caused both considerable damage, and for her to go flying backwards. As she quickly corrected herself, she threw Gambol Shroud upwards, embedding it into the ceiling and using it as a way to swing around above her gunslinging opponent. As she soared, she quickly checked the aura bars; She was, to her surprise, in the yellow, meaning that the few shots that actually hit her had cut her aura in half. However, London's aura had reached the point where it was only three-quarters full, despite Blake only shooting him once and possibly scratching him with a sword strike. That meant she just needed to land three more shots.

Easier said than done, as a different gunshot rang out. She looked down as small pellets stung at her, causing her to disconnect Gambol Shroud from the ceiling and drop to the ground. London had put his handguns away, and was now marching towards her with a black, short-barreled shotgun, firing it off and quickly chambering rounds. As he was holding it at the hip to fire it, many shots were going wide of Blake. She quickly rolled on impact with the ground, snapping off two shots from Gambol Shroud. This time, since they'd both hit their mark, London was knocked onto his back and his shotgun was knocked away. Blake was quick to begin rushing him, victory in sight as the crowd cheered for a well fought battle! London staggered to his feet, placing his hand against his stomach to wipe away the smoking dents in his armour, before realising that Blake was rushing him and beginning to pat himself down. "Deagles..." he patted the holsters. "Out of ammo...um...no A2, no Mossberg...shitshitshit..." Blake smirked even more. He was out of ammo, making her job easier. He didn't even pack a melee weapon.

Amateur.

She lowered her form as she ran, allowing her to prepare a finishing strike that would probably finish off London. As she approached with her sword in hand, she considered that this was probably one of the best fights she'd had for quite a while. He'd actually landed a few good hits, and casting a glance to the bar beneath her name, she realised that he'd managed to get her at least three-quarters of the way down to losing the fight. In comparison, London was lingering on the orange that came just before the red, and she'd only landed three gunshots onto him.

Pretty impressive.

In her moment of consideration, she was drawn out of it by the sound of a sudden snapping coming from London. Now approaching her was her opponent, carrying a thin, black, telescopic baton. So he did have one more trick up his sleeve. Clever. "Let's have a go, ya twat!" London yelled, lowering his figure slightly and swinging the baton as he ran. Blake narrowed her eyes, and prepared Gambol Shroud; She locked her arms by her side, almost dragging the blade along behind her. They both came close enough, and lunged. Blake raised her blade, reeled back, and...

...nothing. A brief moment of blackness. It was as though the film of her life was missing footage. When she began to get her hearing and vision back, she realised that there was a dull roar.

No.

Not a roar.

Cries of dismay.

Her vision slowly came back to her, along with muscle control, and she slowly began to get back up. Steady, carefully. When she was on all fours, she coughed a small amount of blood onto the floor, and looked up and around. Her aura wasn't depleted. She was still in. She smiled slightly, before realising something.

She couldn't see London anywhere. Nor could she see Gambol Shroud.

Where was her opponent?

Her answer came in the form of a sudden force in her ribs as she was kicked onto the ground, face up. She grunted in reception of the pain, squinting and preparing to try and get up again. Instead of the kick she was expecting, a sudden weight fell on her chest as London's heavy boots held her down. She glared up at the masked figure above, and he stared down at her. Looking up at him, it became apparent that he'd taken a beating. His body armour had two large dents in it, and the left arm of his suit jacket bore a hole that displayed bloodied skin beneath. He was dragging it slightly; it hung limply by his side. Slowly, London raised his right hand to her throat, taking his boot off her chest, and holding his black baton towards her face.

So.

Kicking her whilst she was down.

She supposed it's what she got for being cocky about him: He _wasn't_ too bad, after all.

She sighed. "Go on," she muttered. "Hit me." London tilted his head.

"Why the fuck would I hit you? You're already down," he calmly replied. "Grab the baton, I'm helping you up." Blake held her hand in front of her face.

"...why?" she asked cautiously. "I thought this was the bit where you knock me out and steal all the glory."

"Why not?" he replied. "I've done my bit. Besides, I was raised better than that, I'm English." He twitched the baton again. "Grab it, I'm helping you up." Blake stared him over again, before carefully wrapping a hand around the black steel weapon. London stepped back, and pulled, which put Blake back onto her rather uneasy feet. Her nose was already bleeding, so she carefully put her hand against her bloodied upper lip. London stepped forward again and patted her on the shoulder. "You good?" he asked. Blake nodded, and checked her hand. Yeah, she was going to need first aid. London nodded in return, and began to travel across the arena to collect his rifle and shotgun. Blake watched the curious Englishman as the audience began discussing the fight. He didn't start parading himself, showing off, or gloating: Instead, he simply bent down to pick his shotgun up, and dusted it off, before putting the strap over his shoulder and slinging it over his back. Then, he collected his rifle, and even with his mask on, Blake could detect the look of disappointment that his body language carried as he realised that the sling was damaged beyond repair. "Ah, bollocks," he muttered, giving the strap a few test tugs before putting the gun into his hands, and beginning to idly pace around whilst waiting for Professor Goodwytch's review of the fight.

There was something different about this Earthborn. Blake just couldn't figure out what it was.

After a moment or two, Professor Goodwytch stepped into the arena, looking more interested at a student than normal. "Well, congratulations, Mr. London," she remarked, adjusting her glasses and raising a brow...was that a _smile_ Blake detected tugging the corners of Professor Goodwytch's mouth? "That was a rather unexpected turn of events, and you came out on top. I expect to see great things from you in the weeks to come." London removed his mask, and wiped his face with a hand before sorting his hair out.

"Uh huh," he replied rather bluntly. He winced as he put a hand to his body armour. "Listen, is it alright if I go and pass out in the locker rooms, Professor? Because I think I feel my kidneys shutting down." He cast a glance to Blake. "Good shot, by the way." Blake didn't know what she was meant to say when somebody complimented her aim after she made them bleed considerably. She carefully nodded, and Goodwytch nodded to London.

"O-Of course. We have a medical officer in there, ready and waiting."

"Sweet," London replied. He turned to the audience, and called up to the three boys he had been sat next to. "See you lads later, I need to go and have emergency surgery." He also, to Blake's surprise, turned to _her_ team, despite the glare he was being given by Yang. "Sorry I hurt Blake, I'll buy you all something later to apologize." Yang's glare softened. Why the hell was he apologizing? Normally, an Earthborn gloats considerably under those circumstances. London gave Blake a quick nod, turned to leave, took two steps, and collapsed onto the floor in a heap.

"Y'know, I think I might just lie here and slowly die, actually."


	2. Just a bit o' banter, really

London grumbled something unintelligible about 'low-quality kevlar' as he began putting his suit jacket back on over the ballistic vest. Currently, he was in the locker rooms next to the auditorium, having just had his wounds stitched shut, and had finished stitching his jacket back together. Also, the para-medic had mentioned not to do any training for the next day or two whilst his cracked ribs healed up. His aura, however, had already recovered, only minutes after the match; Perk of being an Earthborn, faster aura recharge. Blake sat nearby with the medical officer, her head held up with a small piece of cotton in place to stop her nose-bleed whilst the man tending her gently dabbed an alcohol-rag onto the small cut on the side of her head, where London had landed the baton hit she didn't remember. Heck, she wasn't too sure who'd won. Sure, London knocked her out, but her aura didn't go red, and neither did his. However, both of them went unconscious at some point, so it was still unclear. Either way, the next battle was already starting up. A lad with curly blonde hair, blue eyes, and glasses walked past Blake, wearing leather armour with a few pieces of body armour visible, and he had a long rapier clipped to his belt. Beneath his armpits, there was a pair of machine pistols, meaning he wasn't entirely just close range. London looked up, not wearing his mask. "You all ready to get arse-fucked with swords, Josh?" he asked casually. 'Josh' shot him a glare as Blake giggled slightly.

"Can't be worse than how badly Blake kicked your arse, Jack," he shot back. London was taken aback.

"Josh, I've fuckin' told you, it's _London_. Not Jack, _London_."

"And do I ever listen to your opinions?"

"No, but that's-"

"Exactly."

'Jack' sighed as he began to check his weapons weren't loaded.

"Who're you up against?"

"Weiss Schnee," Josh replied, scratching the back of his head. Blake's ears pricked up. _Weiss? Why's she volunteering?_

"You and Mrs. Schnee, huh?" Jack grinned as he emptied each shotgun shell out onto the table in-between the lockers. "Why's that come about? Is Mrs. Goodwytch trying to play matchmaker?"

"Uh." Josh folded his arms, raised his brow, and pointed between Blake and Jack. "You wanna go down that route?"

Jack raised his arms defensively. "Nope, I'm fine. Now you shoot off in there and fuck her." Blake blushed profusely. "Wait...you know what I mean. Damn. That was a Freudian slip-and-a-half." Josh drew his rapier, laughing as he turned to the door.

"That was _not_ a Freudian slip, that was just you being a dirty minded weirdo."

"It was a Freudian slip!" Jack called after him. "Anyway, go fuc-_shoot_ her." He shook his head as Josh walked out, frowning as he cleared the chamber of the assault rifle he was carrying. "Shite..." Just then, the para-medic shifted.

"Alright, Miss Belladonna," he began, standing up and packing up the bandages. "I need to go get more supplies for the next injuries that come in, so I recommend you stay here and wait until the bleeding stops before you go back upstairs."

"Of course," she said calmly, "Thank you." The uniformed man smiled, and turned to Jack.

"Keep an eye on her," he ordered. Jack mock-saluted, and the man exited the dark cloak-rooms, leaving the two in the room in a mutual silence. She didn't speak to him, partly because of her bloody nose and that she felt slightly light-headed, and he didn't speak to her, because he was too busy trying to unjam the heavy pistols that lay on the table. It was rather calming; Just out of the room, one of Jack's friends and a member of Blake's team were fighting, the sounds of clashing steel and occasional belch of machine pistol fire rang out down the corridor, whilst in the cloakroom, Blake and Jack sat in absolute silence.

She'd never properly spoken to an Earthborn. What if he didn't want to answer any questions now that she'd attacked him? His mask was off. She might be able to read his facial expressions...

"So..." she began, idly swinging her legs. Jack froze completely. "...you came to Remnant by yourself?" There was no answer: Jack focused on his weapons, constantly racking the slides of his pistols to clear them of dirt. Blake patiently waited. Maybe he was just thinking.

Still no reply, even a minute later.

"Are you OK?" she asked. She didn't feel that light-headed now, and her nose wasn't bleeding, so she pulled out the tissue from her right nostril and put her head down to look at him properly. Jack's stance was different than it had been in the arena; Any air of confidence he once carried in the fight was now gone, and he seemed to be ready to run on a moments' notice. He gave the severely burned left side of his face a quick scratch, and flicked his eyes over to Blake, but quickly returned to his guns. "You just don't want to talk?" she sighed, looking down. "That's fine."

Suddenly, Jack cleared his throat, and Blake looked up. "I..." he said quietly, with even less confidence in his voice. "I...don't do well talking to girls." That's it? That's why he wouldn't speak? He was OK in the arena.

"Well, you did just fine talking to me back in the auditorium," she noted. Jack sighed.

"In combat, the enemy is the enemy, and you are yourself. I just see an opponent as that: An opponent. Training match, sure, I'll help you up and check you're fine, that's it. I just don't want to risk any further interactions."

"You don't seem too bad," Blake offered her most genuine smile. "Most of the time, the victor just leaves me there, and you were the first one that wasn't on my team to help me up. Plus, you were at least kind enough to not beat me whilst I was down."

"It'd be ungentlemanly, otherwise," he replied. "There's no valour in attacking someone who can't defend themselves. It's like punching the wounded."

"Nice quote," Blake smiled. "Where'd you learn it?"

"Nowhere, I-I just made that one up. It's common knowledge, though not many people abide by it," he sighed. "Even I don't sometimes." There was another pause, the continuing sounds of fighting outside still ringing out.

"Where'd you learn to fight?" Blake asked, trying to break the ice. This was a first: Blake, breaking the ice. It took a few days before anybody on her team even knew her surname.

"Streets of London," Jack replied. "Fair bit of gang fighting in certain areas, so I learned to defend myself. I trained in a few martial arts, boxing, kickboxing, weapon operation, and that kinda thing. I didn't go for one specific style, I just mixed a bunch together, and..."

"I know how that worked out. You're pretty good."

"Thanks. You're not too bad, either."

"Thank you. I don't entirely understand why you don't just get a custom weapon made for you, rather than carrying so many guns around. Nothing's stopping you." Blake noted. Jack laughed.

"Well, I guess it's because I like Earth weapons better. Plus, I know a guy who can get just about anything, for a price..."

"And how much is that price? Where did you get the money from?"

"Inheritance. Parents died in a gang shooting around the Hoxton area, and I was left a fifth of the inheritance money. Naturally, wasn't enough, so I..." He trailed off. "...I'm not gonna say anything else." Blake frowned, and nodded solemnly.

Was she talking with a murderer?

Before she could ask any different questions to lure him away from the topic of his illegal activities, several sets of footsteps came from down the hall. Blake and Jack both cast a glance down, to see several students approaching. There were at least six of them; five boys, one girl. However, Blake was mainly surprised at how the group of them looked. One of the smaller boys at the front had brown skin, similar to the Emerald girl that Blake had spoken to a few days before, with black hair and a pristine grey uniform that wouldn't look out of place on an off-duty Atlas soldier. Next to him, there was another boy with greasy brown hair and what looked to be powered armour. Blake was almost certain that was Atlas military technology. Then again, she was certain that other dimensions didn't exist until a few months ago.

The group entered the locker room, grinning at Jack and beginning to loudly voice their congratulations to him. His face lit up slightly, as he took the fist bumps and friendly shoulder punches whilst the others all sat down. None of them had seen Blake. The brown-skinned boy spoke first. "That actually went well, and you're not dead," he remarked, "A plus because you tried, and then F because you passed out." Jack swiftly raised his middle and index fingers with the back of his hand facing the boy.

"Shut the fuck up, Kurrun," he laughed. "At least I didn't pass out _during_ the fight. Imagine how much banter would spring up if I got knocked out by a girl?" There was a laugh, as the girl spoke up.

"I pinned you against a wall and made you say 'uncle' the other day, so I'd shut up," she grinned, jabbing a finger at him. Blake smiled, and chuckled quietly. Unfortunately, that prompted all eyes to go over to her, many without a glimmer of friendliness.

One of the other boys, a taller lad wearing camouflage trousers, boots, and a plain green shirt, looked her up and down. "Who's this bitch?" he grunted.

"Luke, you have no idea how to talk to women, do you?" Jack asked.

"Coming from you?" Luke laughed. "She just kicked the shit out of you, and you're just talking with her? The hell's wrong with you?"

"Nothing, because that was a _training match_." Jack stressed those words. "Trai-ning-ma-tch. Neither of us were meant to kill the other, and neither of us did. I don't really care that we fought, because as far as I can tell by the fact she initiated conversation, Blake's an alright person." There was a murmur of begrudging agreement.

"If it was Josh, he'd open by saying something like 'I took business as a GCSE' or some shit," the greasy-haired lad muttered, stretching his back as a few others laughed. "What good's a fucking GCSE gonna do here? Make the Grimm feel inferior?"

"Yeah, and you can't get a proper brew at this place," Jack grumbled. "All this _ooh, Earl Grey and Green Tea_ bollocks. Where's the Gold?"

"Well, they've started serving it at the cafeteria, so we can go get some," Luke replied. "Lesson's almost over, so we might as well. I didn't know you even drank tea." Jack gathered up his weaponry and slung it over himself, slipping his mask into his suit jacket as he stood and began to leave with the rest of them.

"And I bet you also didn't know I hacked the iCloud once," he remarked. He paused briefly, and looked to Blake. "Can you not die until the para-medic comes back, please? I don't want it to look like I let you die." Blake raised an eyebrow, just as Josh staggered back in, now sporting a red patch on his leather armour. He stumbled over to the wall, gripping his wound, and before anyone could say anything, he'd grabbed a spare bandage and a knife, grunting as he forced a bullet out of his stomach. It popped out, landed on the floor, and was quickly kicked away as he bandaged himself up. Jack just grinned. "Holy shit," he laughed. "She fucked you with a rapier." Josh simply shot Jack a glare that might have burned Hell itself, but Jack was used to that.

"Literally shut your face," he snapped, before turning his attention to Blake, who sat on the locker-room bench, confusedly looking back. "Your team-mate shot me with my own gun, gave it back, and then started crying when she realized what she'd done. How can you live with her?"

"How do James, Robbie, and Steven live in the same dorm as me? I thought Robbie would have tried raping all of us by now," Jack asked calmly. Robbie, the boy with the armoured greaves, gauntlets, and chestplate, shot him a glare.

"Well, first off, I'm not gay, I'm bi," he began, "Second, I know two of you would castrate me with an ice pick if I tried. Third, I know that Captain Planet over there would enjoy it." He cast a gesture to Steven, a larger boy with black hair and what looked to be a bomb suit.

"Oh, fuck off," Steven muttered.

It was as she watched these 'teams' calmly insulting each other that Blake realized humans were a _lot_ more complicated than she had first assumed.

As in, _holy shit_, she thought Weiss was weird sometimes, but this is just pushing new boundaries.


	3. A Perversion of Social Skills

Amongst the clusters of students chatting away in the lunch hall, there was a large group of eight that stood out right away. Rather than the 'light armour' that other students might have been wearing, sometimes allowing for a degree of concealment with the dull green and jet black tones, teams JJRS and JKLJ stood out for miles around: Josh stuck out like a knife still in the wound with his white leather armour, whilst Steven was practically gravitating eyes towards him in what could only ever be described as one-up from a bomb suit. The only ones who stood marginally any chance of not being noticed were Jack, in his suit, and Luke, in camouflage trousers and a green shirt.

One thing making it less likely for them to avoid detection, however, was how they were talking. "For fuck's sakes, Jade," Robbie groaned, "You can't just say it like that to everyone you meet!" Jade smiled, and put her feet on the table.

"I fucking can," she shot back. Josh stopped texting, raised his head off his arms slightly and looked at them wearily.

"What are you even arguing about?" he sighed. His female teammate turned to him, and gestured as though she were stating facts.

"If it's appropriate to describe Robbie as 'liking both dicks _and_ tits'," Jade replied matter-of-factly. "But the thing is, he's saying that it's 'not appropriate for the public'."

"Well, it isn't!" Josh half-yelled exasperatedly. Just then, Jack spat out the tea he'd just been drinking, and got loads of brown liquid in Josh's luxurious blonde lion's mane of a haircut. His fellow team leader panicked, and began flailing about trying to clear his hair.

"First off, Jade, that's exactly why he was partnered with Steven, because he has tits and a dick." Jack said calmly, prompting a laugh and two disgruntled sets of muttering.

"The second part is debatable," Luke noted, scratching his chin.

"Secondly, and most-fucking-importantly: This tea tastes of shite!" Jack groaned, wiping some of the remaining liquid from his lips. He turned to James. "You tried any of this?"

"I don't want to, now," James grinned. "Also, I think that was salt that you put in it, not sugar."

"Still tastes better than your mum's vagina," Robbie said quickly, before he, Jade, Kurrun, and Luke broke into collective 'OOOOOOHHHHHH'ing'. Jack sighed, and put the mug back on the table, leaning back and casting an idle glance down the aisle between tables as the rest of his friends continued bickering. A bunch of twats that he recognized as team CRDL were teasing a Faunus girl with rabbit ears, like a bunch of cunts. He was about to go over and help her, when he noticed movement at the end of the tables. Leading the front of team RWBY, Weiss pointed a finger at teams JJRS and JKLJ, before walking sternly up to them, followed by Blake, then Ruby, and finally Yang, who was texting.

The white-haired girl offered no greeting, but chose to sit directly next to Josh without his consent, then assess everyone else at the table as the eight of them went silent in alarm, confusion, and in Josh's case, arousal (he had never been this close to a woman before, was he supposed to touch her boobies or something?). The rest of RWBY gave quiet greetings, before taking seats near Weiss. The rich girl wasn't gonna be takin' no shit, it seemed. She jabbed an accusing finger at Jack, who recoiled slightly.

"So!" she began suddenly, narrowing her eyes. "You fought Blake, and knocked her out! I'd like to know how you did that so easily!"

Jack's mind was racing.

'_oh shit its a girl she's talking to me what the fuck do i do how do i hide my boner fuck fuck fuck_'

James noticed Jack's struggle, indicated by his nervous scratching of his burned face, worried expression, and aversion of eye contact, and intervened. "He isn't good at speaking to girls," he cut in, earning an inquisitive glare from Weiss. "If I were you, I wouldn't be as aggressive in your questioning, or he'll probably break down and cry." Weiss' glare softened only slightly, and she looked back and Jack.

"Well?" she snapped again, causing Jack to flinch slightly and compact himself.

"...I...hit her in the head...?" he replied quietly, trailing off as Weiss quickly wrote it down on her Scroll. She looked back up after a few seconds, causing Jack to flinch again.

"Go on." she ushered. Jack squinted slightly, and sat up a bit more.

"Are you being serious?" he asked finally. Weiss nodded.

"Absolutely. I am..._not_ studying your tactics."

"Well, if you're going to study tactics, think of basic bloody physics: If you get hit in the face with a weighted metal baton, you're probably gonna go out like a fucking light." Weiss glared at him.

"Tone down on the language, you ruffian. And besides, Blake has a strong aura! You can't just disregard that!"

"Hey, shut the fuck up, bitch," Jack shot back, jabbing a finger at her. "As far as I'm concerned, you're asking me to do it again." He turned to Blake, who was sitting silently beside him, watching this exchange. "Don't worry, I won't do that, I like you." Blake cautiously raised a thumb as he turned back to Weiss.

"Don't even think about it, you overcooked oaf!" the heiress snarled, leaning onto the table.

"What, you gonna bitch me to death?" Jack dismissed her, folding his arms. Reminding him of his burn scar was always a bad thing: That normally reminded him that it still ached. "Because I already have Josh trying to do that."

"Hey!" Josh piped up, glaring at Jack.

"See?" Jack stated matter-of-factly. "Besides, I'm surprised you and Josh didn't have a discussion. You both use those shitty little toothpick things that are apparently swords." Weiss glared at him, and Josh sat up as well.

"For your information, _Mr. Guns-Are-The-Only-Friends-I-Can-Get_, it's a rapier, and it requires much more skill to use than your guns!" he shot back.

"If it takes so much skill to use, then why did you let Weiss shoot you in the gut?" Jack replied calmly. He hadn't even raised a brow. "Did she even apologize?" Josh paused.

"Uh...n-no..." he muttered, looking at Weiss and patting the hole in his leather armour. "Haven't you got something you need to say to me?" Weiss jaw fell open, and she furrowed her brow, glaring coldly at Josh.

"You can't expect me to apologize for that, you dolt!" she cried. "Besides, you should be apologizing to me for bringing guns to a sword-fight!"

"Hey, I'm sorry if I was being too cautious for you!" Josh spat. "Next time, I'll bring BB guns! And a foam sword! Even then, I'd still kick your prissy little butt!" People around the cafeteria had long paused and started listening to the exchange, 'ooh'ing' at the harsh comments.

"I don't think you can say anything, especially since I'm certain I saw some _tears_ during our little encounter," Weiss smirked, folding her arms and shifting her weight. The two were now standing in the aisle between tables. She began to mock cry, rubbing under her eyes and leaning towards Josh, pouting her lower lip. "Wah wah wah! I got hurt in a training match! That's not fair! Mummy! Daddy!" The crowds gathered laughed. Josh gritted his teeth.

"Go ahead, mock me, I'm not bothered," he grinned, leaning forward to glare into Weiss' eyes. "_But at the end of the day? At least my father wouldn't hit me for failing him._" The jaws around the cafeteria collectively fell open and an even louder round of 'OOH's' broke out. RBY, JJRS, and KLJ all sat there grinning. Yang was streaming the bitch-fight. Weiss leaned back, and placed her hands on her hips, opening her mouth and exhaling in shock.

"What was that?" she spat, putting a hand to her ear. "I couldn't hear you, over the fact that I can afford tuition here in Beacon without having to cut into my family's benefits fund!" More collective whooping. Jack turned to the others sitting at the table.

"And all it took was one little question, and it's all fuckin' _KICKED OFF_," he laughed. He gained +1 high-five from most of the people there, except Luke, who envied Weiss' bitching abilities and how she was trying to steal his job of bitch-fighting Josh. He turned to Blake. "Yours is a stuck-up posh kid, too?" he asked. Blake nodded.

"She's also partial to using derogatory names for Faunus and the lower classes of society," she replied quietly. Jack smiled.

"So's our one! Hey, maybe we could exchange handling tips for how we deal with our posh bitch?" he asked, eliciting a giggle from Blake. Before anything else could be said, Jade finally rolled her eyes and stood up between the two. They gave hardly any notice of the girl in black combat trousers, boots, and hoodie, and gave no further notice until she delivered two swift punches to both of their faces. Surprisingly, it worked just fine, knocking both rich people out in one shot each, prompting a mix of cheers and boos from the crowds. Jade looked down on the two, shaking her hands to withdraw the pain, before looking back to the stunned remainders of RWBY and JKLJ.

"Let's just cut our losses and go back to the dorms," she sighed. "Besides, I want to get some range time in before the curfew tonight." Yang looked down at Weiss, then up at Jade. She promptly offered a hand to shake.

"Teach me your ways, oh great one-shotter."

_**Seven hours later. 8:00PM.**_

After dinner, it became clear that Jack was probably going to be late again. Steven had been forced to modify his tridegun himself, James had needed to finish an essay by himself, and Robbie had simply just slept for the whole time. The dorm room was fairly quiet, the only noises being the tick of the clock, the metallic sounds as Steven dealt with an overheating problem on his weapon, James' pencil scratching, and the four computers humming on the separate tables around the room. Each PC was owned by each member of team Judgers, with each desk shoeing just how much it was used. Robbie's desk had a few loose sheets of research, James' had a bit more plus some sticky notes with websites, Steven had a full PC gaming setup with fancy headphones, but Jack's was most extreme. It wouldn't have looked out of place in some criminal's lair, with several screens all displaying different information or images; a screen on the top row had constantly cycling camera footage from a device that Jack had forced into the Beacon security network, another had a scrolling list of names of people on Remnant and Earth, another had a map of Vale with locations flashing up and disappearing as crimes progressed, whilst the smaller screen in front of the chair simply showed the words 'ORDER PLACED; RETRIEVE AT VALE DOCKS, USUAL SPOT'.

Whilst this would seem like some kind of crimefighter's set up, as he vigilantly observed the city for danger, it really wasn't. In fact, it was the opposite: Jack was actually rather deep with illegal arms dealing, criminal gangs, and smuggling. Not to mention a few contacts within famous terrorist groups; Al-Qaeda, the White Fang, Humans United, the British Nationalist Party...he had a few friends in higher-up places that could gut somebody if they so much as scratched their bollocks in his general direction. Jack, of course, wasn't the type of person to be that cruel. In fact, he rather liked being questioned on it. His team had simply gotten used to it, and so had team Jacklodge.

Steven sighed, putting the replacement barrel down on the table and scratching his mop of black hair. "What's taking him so long? I thought he'd be back by now." James shrugged.

"Don't ask me," he replied, not looking up from his work. "I don't want to get involved in illegal business practices." Steven rolled his eyes.

"You wouldn't really be getting involved if he's the one you want back, not whatever he's bringing back..."

"Well, I'm not saying we need him back. I can do the essay by myself. And you should know how your gun works."

"I do," Steven whined, looking to the pile of parts in front of him, "I just don't know how to get some things working."

"Like?"

"The transformation's running slowly. I'd prefer it if I could switch quickly between gatling mode and trident mode."

"I'm certain you'd also prefer to be able to see your toes, but I can't see that happening for a while," James chuckled. Just then, there was a knock on the door. James was quick to stand up and open it. To his surprise, standing in the hallway was none other than Luke, Kurrun, and Jade. "Yo." he greeted. The three visitors simply barged into the room, and James shrugged slightly, closing the door behind them. "Is there something you need?" Jade assessed the room, before turning to James and looking at him with a raised brow.

"Where's Jack?" she asked impatiently. Her hood was down, revealing her rather pale skin and slightly disheveled brown hair. Steven simply shrugged, not taking his eyes off his weapon.

"We dunno," he answered, "He said he'd be late."

"Why's it important?" James asked.

"Apparently, Josh is angry at him for 'instigating'," Luke replied casually. He sat on the side of Robbie's bed, the occupant still sleeping soundly, and began to assess a Browning Hi-Power pistol that he had with him. "I'm just amazed that he and Weiss haven't hit it off. They're both small, posh, angry lesbians." Kurrun looked straight ahead at a wall, deep in thought.

"She was so tiny..." he murmured.

"Also, she had no tits," James noted.

"Did you see that Yang girl? Holy _shit_, she's got big boobs," Luke exclaimed, moving his hands to his chest to mimic the size of the beasts. "I think those were DDs, easily." Jade rolled her brown eyes.

"Of course, it's all about the tits with you lads," she muttered. "Seriously though, holy fuck, Professor Goodwytch was probably picked because she has GGs. She hates children, I'm sure, so I bet Ozpin selected her in the hopes he'd get a face full of boobs." Just then, a key turned in the door, and all eyes turned to see Jack walking in. He was carrying what looked to be a large toolbox, but he put that down, went around the door again, and grabbed another three similar boxes. He stacked them up, pushed them into the room with his foot, then closed the door.

"I'm back, and I hear talk of breasts," he stated calmly. "Has a Steven joke been made yet?"

Jade raised a hand. "No-"

"Steven, your chest is like the grand canyon and even Katie Price is envious," Jack said quickly, raising a laugh from others and a huff from Steven. "Sorry I couldn't help with your gun, by the way. Same with your essay, James."

"Nah, it's OK," Steven dismissed him with a hand, as his masked friend placed the four toolboxes on his bed, opening them all. Excitedly, Luke and Jade quickly moved beside him.

"What'd you get this week?" Luke asked. His answer came as Jack pulled a large, menacing looking LMG from the first box. It was famous enough that even Kurrun recognised the green ammo box beneath it as that of an M249.

"A SAW machine gun," Jack stated, running through the usual test procedures, "Capable of about eight hundred rounds per minute, ten kilograms if I load it, and it looks awesome, so, fifty grand well spent."

"That it?" Jade asked.

"Nah, I got more, I just can't be arsed to show you them. Tired as fuck, plus I'm still reeling after some girl tried talking to me at the dealership."

"Girl?" James turned to face him. "We all know you're clearly the best with girls."

"No, no, this one was...different. She was...calm. Like, _seriously_ calm. She didn't even hesitate to caress my chin with her hand. She had weird, yellow eyes, and she smelt like smoke."

"Well, that sounds disgusting," Steven laughed.

"You'd be surprised to know that she was insanely hot, then," Jack remarked. "Shame I'm scared of women."

"You're not scared of me," Jade noted, "And I'm a woman."

"Debatable," Luke noted, before receiving a punch in the gut.

"Anyway, you get on well with that Blake person. She's not too bad."

"I don't know..." Jack scratched the back of his head, removing his mask and rubbing his face clear of sweat. "Blake seems like a book person."

"You can do books," James encouraged. "Tell her about Mein Kampf!"

"It wasn't too bad of a book," Jack replied, "But it'd probably get her to become scared of me, and I want her booty."

"Booty? As in, money?" Kurrun raised a brow.

"No, her arse. Have you seen it? Sassy as fuck walk, and her arse is amazing." He paused. "Hold on a second." Jack moved over to his computer station in the back corner of the room, and everybody guessed what was happening next.

"How the fuck did you get a camera in team RWBY's room?!"

"Dude, they're changing, don't be a pervert!"

"You're a fucking legend."

"Daaaaaayum, that booty."


	4. Do You Like Insulting Other People?

The next morning, the two teams went down for breakfast in the main hall. As per usual, the breakfast set-up was what could be effectively described as something that could only be achieved if Gordon Ramsay ripped his vocal chords from shouting swear words all night. There were stacks of pancakes, bowls of cereal, milk jugs everywhere, and most people were still wearing pyjamas. After all, breakfast started at 5:00AM, and quite a few students wanted to get the good stuff whilst it was hot. JJRS and JKLJ set themselves down in the far back corner of the room, with a bit of distance between themselves and the nearby team Melody (abbreviated MLDY). Nobody wanted to put up with neckbeards that early in the morning, though that begged the question why anybody even bothered to hang around with Jack.

Josh miserably chewed on a slice of toast whilst glaring at Jade from across the table. His left eye now sported a large bruise where she'd socked him in the face the day before, and he was still sour over it. Jade raised her brow, moving around in the black dressing gown she was wearing for warmth. "You're still pissed about your eye?" she asked. Josh offered no response except a shift in stance that asked _'Are you really asking that question?'_, and then continued to eat his food, shaking his head.

"Like I always say," Jack cut in, leaning to the side from his non-metaphorical six-foot high mountain of toast, "You're honestly missing out on this 'always wear a ballistic mask' thing. Your eyes don't get bruised, your face becomes bulletproof..."

"I wear a bomb helmet," Steven noted. He was wearing a black pyjama shirt that was a bit too small for him, and a pair of tracksuit bottoms, which he passed off as 'sleeping attire'. "And that helmet has a titanium faceplate that can withstand a point-blank shotgun shell. You're seriously risking your face, because...?"

"Because I don't want to hide behind a mask," Josh snapped. "And if you two weren't so insecure about your faces, then you wouldn't want to either." James simply leaned forwards from beside Jack, his antique German dressing gown warmly wrapped around his body. Doubtless to say, he'd already been threatened with stabbing by a German boy earlier, but that kid clearly had no idea that the Wehrmacht was the most stylish fascist military force ever devised.

"You're genuinely telling Jack not to hide his face?" he smirked, raising a brow. "He's probably one of the most hated people in London's criminal underworld, and he's only sixteen."

"Hence my vast array of masks, clothes, and hats," Jack stated, wiping his hands on his trousers and putting his empty plate that, a mere thirty seconds ago, had contained an entire country's worth of toast into the center of the table. He received a look from Kurrun.

"Jesus Christ, no wonder Africa's in a food crisis," he murmured.

"And yet they still have more money than your country," James remarked, "So shut up."

"You'd be surprised how much money Bollywood makes for the Indian economy," Kurrun shot back, "It makes a few hundred million, per year."

"Almost enough Rupees to buy TWO goats!" Luke grinned. Before the situation could get any more racist, there was a group of feminine footsteps approaching, and all of them were barefoot-sounding. Jack cast a brief glance down the tables to see team RWBY making their way over in pyjamas, being led by a rather up-tight looking Weiss, who, upon seeing Josh, raised her head with a 'hmmph' and seated herself at the end of the table. The other members of RWBY cast brief waves to JJRS and JKLJ, before sitting themselves down beside her.

"Teenage fuckin' drama, this is," Jack muttered, reclining back and putting his hands behind his head. "Don't get why you lot bother with it: Arguably, we're a bunch of lads, and I'm the only one who doesn't care for it!"

"Jack," Josh sighed, "You have made that argument very clear every single day for the past four years. And yet we still don't care."

"Go fuck yourself," Jack quipped in a banterific tone, before reaching to the back of his trouser belt and withdrawing, from seemingly absolutely nowhere, an MP5 sub-machine gun, before placing it on the table and beginning to disassemble it out of what seemed to be boredom. Regardless of his combat style and upbringing, both undeniably aggressive in nature, there were still a lot of things no person understood about Jack: His seemingly natural ability with (and abnormally close relationship to) most weapons, why he chose to wear a ballistic mask in combat when a helmet would be much more effective, how he manages to conceal some incredibly large and bulky weapons, how and why he had so many of the same suit jacket, and who the fuck was the person that let him keep his recipe for 'Super Napalm'.

Those were only some of the many questions regarding the Englishman, but nobody really cared, or wanted to ask, so they simply drifted around in everyone's heads as though an answer could crop up at any moment. Just then, talking began at team RWBY's area of the large table.

"So," Weiss began, still looking up-tight as ever, "Like I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted-"

"You weren't interrupted," Blake noted.

"-I think that today, our team should go against one of the teams whose leaders we fought yesterday!"

"It's doubles today, Weiss," Yang groaned. She seemed slightly hungover: Had she been out drinking? "That means partners are gonna be put against partners. You're getting too worked up over teenage drama." Jack suddenly slammed his fist on the table, and gestured sharply to Yang, causing a brief moment of shock to those nearby.

"SEE!" he cried suddenly. "Blondie gets it! Thank you, Blondie!" Yang raised a brow, wincing slightly at the volume.

"Uh, OK? And it's Yang, not Blondie." Jack simply dismissed her with a hand.

"Yeah, sure, whatever, thanks anyway," he muttered. He turned to Josh, pointing the separated barrel of the MP5 at him. "I told you it was teenage fuckin' drama!"

"But ultimately, Josh is more feminine than all of RWBY..." Jade trailed off as a great banterous chuckling arose from the group, except Josh, who gritted his teeth and angrily chewed more toast.

"So, anyway," Ruby suddenly piped up, surprising most of JJRS and JKLJ, since they hadn't heard the younger student speak yet. "How did you all get into Beacon?" James sat up suddenly.

"**LEGALLY.**" he blurted. "**ABSOLUTELY LEGALLY.**" Kurrun sighed, and looked down the table to the girls.

"It was either this, or his parents were sending him to military school in America."

Josh sat up suddenly, looking prideful. "I, for your information, got here by valiantly fighting my way to the top to secure a position in this academy of the elite!"

"His parents paid off the student council," Robbie corrected, earning a glare from Josh.

"I guess I got scouted," Jade whistled, reclining on her bench. "A guy came up who worked for the Remnant Academic Association, and asked if I would be interested."

"She applied normally," Kurrun groaned.

"I fought my way here in a few fights, and I left the SAS training program a few days before I was due to graduate to come here," Luke said proudly, tapping the SAS regimental patch on his green shirt.

"Normal military training, but he bought the shirt," Josh snarkily cut in, now joining in on the group undermining of each other.

Kurrun looked at the girls. "I-"

"IT WAS EITHER THIS OR ISIS." James called out, prompting Kurrun to groan and sit down and for those drinking to release the fluids from their noses in laughter.

"I just applied," Robbie answered truthfully. Ruby smiled. Someone's honest, at least.

"I know people," Jack said calmly, leaning back on the bench and clicking his back. "Plus, I needed to get away from some guys that don't like me very much."

"What, so you couldn't deal with some ruffians?" Weiss scoffed. Jack simply raised a brow and looked at the small, miserable lesbian.

"Why'd you think half my face is burned?" he asked.

"I'd assume you fell asleep on a gas hob," Weiss replied flatly. "Because it improved your face." There was a small laugh.

"Looks like you'll be needing a healthy dose of flame to the face, then," Jack grinned in an almost predatory way, revealing the thin flesh on the left of his face. She glared at him. Could her 'my scar means I've been through more' argument hold its own against that?

"I doubt that a few yobs with matches could cause me a problem," she boasted, "I singlehandedly defeated the Mirror Bladesman, even when victory was deemed impossible. I learned not to rush into battle blindly, with this scar being my reminder that failure is mercilessly punished."

"Let's just say some people don't take kindly to those who don't pay up. Didn't pay a loan shark, even though I had never taken out a loan, and my house got firebombed. It landed close, I lost the skin off my left face." Jack leaned forward. "Mine was closer. He lost his legs."

Robbie groaned, and looked to the rather depressed Weiss. She seemed angry that she'd been shown up. "Don't worry. He's part magnetic. You can stick things to his back and it pisses him off. At one point, we used him to carry all our shit until we realised that his back also collects radio signals and lets him play music, which was when he started to piss us off."

Jack continued to try and search for a radio station playing Rick Astley.

_**Later. Free period.**_

"I still don't get how someone with his record is even allowed in this academy!" Weiss whined, pacing around the tables that RWBY and JNPR had commandeered in the library. The large room of mahogany was quiet for that time of day, especially considering how it was a free period. Somewhere else in the library, there were a few teams from Earth revising, and Blake knew that Velvet was wandering around somewhere. Regardless of who was present, Weiss, as usual, was bitching. "He should be locked up, I say! Locked up!"

"Weiss," Blake groaned, "Consider that they joined this school to fight monsters that plague the lands, and you'd see that these new humans aren't that bad." Weiss turned sharply, mouth slightly agape.

"I can't believe you're defending these...these..._invaders_!" she gasped. "Do you know what they did the moment that rift opened?" Jaune raised a hand.

"Uh, well," he began, "I'm pretty sure they sent in a few planes as a precaution." Weiss raised a brow, folding her arms. "And then dropped in some troops..." Jaune sighed. More silence. "And also some armoured vehicles..." The silence intensified. "And they kidnapped a farmer."

"Exactly!" Weiss cried. "They're all just here to take over land that isn't theirs, and they tried to start with Vale!"

Blake rolled her eyes. "As if General Ironwood wouldn't try and capture America immediately on landing."

"I heard that America is like the Earth edition of Atlas," Pyrrha said calmly, looking up from her book on advanced flanking. "It would be a rather close battle."

"Yeah," a familiar voice piped up from the doorway, "And you might also be interested to know that America's still crying over a couple of hijacked planes smashing into their Trade Center, they think they won Vietnam, and like dragging everyone into their petty conquests for oil." Weiss folded her arms, and looked to see Josh, Kurrun, Luke, and Jade entering the library.

"Oh?" Weiss smirked. "I didn't think you or your degenerate friends could read." Josh shot her an equal glare and stood in front of her. He was about her height, making them look like two angry small people.

"I didn't think you could stand for very long with that silver spoon up your fucking arse," Luke remarked as he walked past, scratching his stubble and lighting up a cigarette. JNPR and RBY concealed laughs at the comment.

"That was uncalled for, Luke," Josh groaned. "And besides, the only reason you said you're here is to steal things."

"I never said that!" Luke called back as he went onto the other side of the balcony overlooking the library.

"Well, you didn't, but I just assumed that, because you look like a fucking pikey!" Josh snapped, shaking his head as Luke flicked the reverse victory. He looked back at Weiss, and looked her up and down. Finally, he straightened up and extended a hand. "Apologies for our little spat yesterday. Josh Monoplie, leader of team Jacklodge." Weiss took a moment, sighed, and begrudgingly accepted the handshake.

"Weiss Schnee," she replied, almost suspiciously. There was a pause as they stopped shaking hands. In the silence of the library, the only sounds were pages turning, quiet talking from below, and Luke's rather loud proclamation of '**Ow, that landed on my head, you bellend**', followed by Jade laughing and Kurrun saying '**Fucking idiots! Jesus Christ! Stop hitting each other with books, for fuck's sake!**'. Weiss looked at Josh. "Your team?"

"Yeah, sadly," he sighed, scratching the back of his head.

"Ouch, I feel sorry for you," Weiss replied almost apologetically. Josh smiled.

"At least your team is known to do well," he said, gesturing to the rest of team RWBY. All of them smiled back: Always respond to politeness with kindness!

"Aw, thank you," Weiss beamed, "But it's technically Ruby's team. She's the leader."

"And you're second in command?"

"No, we have nothing of the sort."

"Oh, really?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Well, it's just that both my team and team Judgers have a chain of command. I have Kurrun as a second in command, so if I go down, he issues orders."

"We like to think Kurrun is the leader," Jade cut in as she sat down at a table with a book on sneaking. Luke followed with his laptop, and Kurrun idly leaned on a bookshelf. "Josh practically faints at the sight of blood."

"I do not!" Josh replied angrily. "I'm just a bit squeamish, that's all."

"Noooope, you're just a fuckin' pussy," another voice cut in. Most people present sighed: It was almost a good conversation...

Looking over to a nearby door, team JJRS proudly marched in, James and Jack up front and Robbie and Steven trailing behind. James was wearing his casual clothes in favour of his powered armour, but quite clearly strapped to his leg was a holster containing a Luger pistol, and on his back was a large black metal plate with **FBI** quite clearly written on it. Josh sighed as they all sat down at a spare table. "James, you know you can get arrested for having that thing," he said firmly. Now it was James' turn to sigh.

"I'll have you know that in spite of how the history books wrote about them, the Nazis developed and used some of the finest firearms ever-"

"No, no, not that," Josh groaned. He could practically feel JNPR and RWBY staring inquisitively at him, waiting for him to explain who the 'Nazis' were. "The metal thing on your back! That's FBI property!"

"And most of my weapons are military property," Jack shot back. He wasn't wearing his mask, but it was clearly hanging from his belt, revealing Jack's raised brow, his usual frown of disapproval, and his slight stubble. "Your point being?"

"It's illegal," Josh said flatly. "If you get caught with them, you're probably gonna be sent to prison."

"Is that a threat?" James asked. "Can't have been a threat. Josh said it."

"What're you gonna do: Tip the feds off?" Jack grinned mockingly. "Use your phone on a private number? You bear in mind that I can listen to any call within the Vale area, at my desk, whilst leaning back and sipping a value bottle of Pepsi, and you realise that it's not your best course to take."

"Yeah," Weiss cut in sharply, standing over the reclined Jack. "And **YOU** bear in mind that my father helps to run the Intercontinental Communications Links, and knows a certain 'General Ironwood', and then you think twice before you make threats like that." Jack simply looked at her with a raised brow and look of confusion. Everyone else just watched.

"Bitch, I could raid your dad's office solo," he said firmly. Josh wouldn't have been surprised if he actually _tried_... "Does your dad have three thousand fuckin' health?" Weiss opened her mouth to argue, but...

...what was 'health'?

"Furthermore, does your dad own a motel that also conceals criminal activities of Soviet mobsters?"

"OK, Jesus Fucking Christ," Jade groaned, and raised her head off the book. "Look, let's just stop before this turns into a Dad Measuring contest." Weiss huffed and folded her arms.

"...my dad would win..." she muttered stroppily.

"Mine wouldn't," Jack grinned. "He couldn't even stop my bat when I smashed it through his head." James burst out laughing at the comment.

Thus, conversation in the library died for at least two hours before anybody decided to leave.

_**Team JKLJ's Dorm; 9:00PM.**_

The dorm was at its usual volume: Mid-Loud. Josh sat loudly arguing with Luke over some inconsequential shit; Jade sat at the table, disassembling and cleaning her 'Endgame' rifles at an unfathomable speed; and Kurrun sat on his bed, grinding the blades on his Scimipion machine guns to a razor edge, creating an unbearable whining. Under the volume of Luke and Josh's bitch fight, however, the noise was trivial, especially since Jade and Kurrun had to put up with it fairly often and over even more trivial matters.

Half of the first day in Beacon was wasted as they argued over beds. Jade had picked hers the moment she entered: Window bed, easier to sneak out of, vantage point overlooking almost the entirety of Beacon, and she would be able to hit Ozpin in his office if she tried. And then when either the teachers or the police came into the dorm building, she could just move a few parts on her sniper rifle and it'd be in assault mode, ready for close range.

She was known for being a tactical thinker.

Back on Earth, she managed to out-do most of her old school in a five-hundred-on-one snowball fight by hiding behind a wall and knocking them down one by one. However, she was eventually caught out when a dozen came at once and she had no snow to knock onto them from the roof.

Heh.

Stuff of legends.

She smiled internally as the bolt-carrier assembly unlatched from the body of the gun, the extendable barrel forcing itself against the spring in a futile attempt to escape from the weapon. Jade ignored it for the time being.

"So," Kurrun piped up to her, continuing to grind the blades, "I assume you're fitting that new part that Jack gave you?" Jade nodded.

"Military-grade laser module," she said calmly, "Both a torch, and a laser, and has a long battery life. Can't normally get these unless you're a US Army requistions officer."

"Or Jack."

"Or Jack, absolutely."

"So where're you fitting it on?"

"Eh, still deciding. Just gonna give Snissault a quick once over, then see what seems comfortable."

"Fair enough. I need to see if there's a way to replicate the blades on these, but in titanium or some shit."

"Why? You can't be arsed to grind them every evening?"

"Because then they'll be lighter. You know how much a Skorpion weighs, and that's not much. Two Skorpions, one in each hand, OK, feeling the weight. Add two heavy steel blades and a transformation mechanism, and holy shit, your arms are breaking."

"Why not just do what that Lie Ren kid did? Use lighter guns and smaller blades."

"I've trained in scimitar-submachine-gun combat for the past few years. I'm not exactly just going to give it up."

"No, I know your Mum'll kill you if you do badly, but I'm just suggesting that you change your choice of gun. Try a Glock 18. It's practically machine-gun pistol."

"So a machine pistol."

"Yeah.

"Can't be as accurate as a Skorpion. Plus, too small to convert into scimitars."

"Doesn't have to be scimitars. Make them machetes. Bowie knives."

"Scimitars are better for my culture. Old Indian fighting swords, cut the English right in half all those years ago."

"And yet you still have an economy that's like your sex life: Non-existent and absolutely worthless."

"Oh, fuck off, you bumslut."


	5. They Identify as Unrelenting Force-kin

A few days passed since the argument in the library. Josh and Weiss, against everyone else's opinions and views, began to hang out a lot more for studying. Jack was regularly making trips into Vale to go and retrieve the arms he had been buying (and sell those he didn't need), and was, at the time the students were in the auditorium again, currently drawing up plans to try and convince his dealer to start getting his guys to stash his contraband shipments around Beacon, much to the protests of Josh, Kurrun, and Blake.

Jack, of course, disregarded their inferior opinions, and mentally identified where the mysterious 1MP0RT could hide a box of Incendiary Grenades.

Kurrun had become faster. He'd never been training as hard as he was after coming to Beacon. He could cut down most trees in three or four seconds with a mix of gunfire and swordsmanship.

James, after following Jack to Vale two days before to help carry things, was now in possession of a large variety of illegal shields, most of which complimented partnered work in combat. He had also managed to slip in a copy of Mein Kampf into the newly created 'Earth' section of Beacon's library, and enjoyed watching the horrified reactions of students as they looked over a madman's writings.

Luke and Jade had started going down to the range more often: As their combat relied heavily on keeping the enemy the fuck away from them, it was imperative that their aiming remained razor sharp. Though this meant nothing for their partnership: The two absolutely _loathed_ each other, in part due to their tactics and fighting styles being fairly similar, and mostly due to the fact that one of them was Luke, and the other one was Jade. Thus, they mostly just had petty squabbles down at the range over grouping sizes, made passionate love one of them would leave for the dorm, then the other would return an hour later and gloat that they got better groupings.

Steven regularly struggled to sort out his Trigatling if Jack wasn't around to be 'the gun bloke'. He'd started visiting Beacon's workshop, and using the tools available to make new parts for both his armour, and his weapon. Thus, the original steel faceplate on his bomb suit helmet was replaced with a solid titanium version that could withstand most anti-armour rounds with absolute ease. He'd also dragged Robbie along, who would never do anything but stand around and chat up the girls that were occasionally about.

So far, he was only successful in engaging in conversation with Ruby.

And that was pretty fucking weird.

Regardless of everyone's activities before, they had all once again gathered in the auditorium for more training matches. As usual, Professor Goodwytch had entered the arena, straightened her glasses, and continued frowning. "Today, we will be having doubles matches," she began, tapping away on her scroll. "A partnership will be selected from a team, and pitted against another partnership from another team. As per usual rules, the partnership with the last person standing will be announced the victor." Murmurs broke out around the room, and it became clear that people were already picking out who they did and didn't want to be put against. A _lot_ of slightly fearful glances were going towards Pyrrha and Jaune. The latter would be easy to deal with, but Pyrrha? That was a death sentence.

"Death sentence, you say?" Jack asked Josh. Josh looked at him inquisitively, and in a slight state of bewilderment.

He stared at his masked fellow team leader for a few moments, then began to shift to face him. "Wait...how did you know I was thinki-?"

"I read internet fan fiction," Jack replied smartly. "Anyway, Pyrrha and Jaune wouldn't be that tough. She practically never uses her long range capabilities, and when she does, she either shoots with an underpowered rifle or relinquishes a weapon for throwing. Dodge it, and keep away from her, and you're fine."

"Her shield's nearly indestructible, Jack," Kurrun piped up from the row behind. "It's made of the same metal that they make Bullheads with, and that's the same strength as armoured car plating. Your guns won't even scratch it." Jack remained silent at this, considering. Then faced forward, and seemed to be thinking quietly. Kurrun grinned, and looked at Josh. "That shut him up."

"Point-five-oh..." Jack murmured. "...yeah, that might work." Just before anybody could become highly concerned at what 'point-five-oh' actually meant, Professor Goodwytch spoke up.

"The first pairs selected are Nora Valkyrie and Lie Ren, of Team Juniper, and Robert Archer and Steven Butcher, of Team Judgers." Murmurs broke out as those around the four, who were seated on different stands, began to egg them on to go and have a fight. Nora was fairly quick to stand up and almost skip to the stairs that led to the locker rooms, with Ren calmly standing and following with his hands behind his back.

Robbie had to practically drag Steven out of his seat, a feat in itself considering that Steven was wearing a bomb suit and carrying a thirty kilogram machine-trident-gatling-thing. Even more of an amazement was that he successfully avoided bumping Steven into Jack, which probably would have made their leader begin flamboyantly using a carpenter's hammer in a violent manner. After heading downstairs, and Robbie collecting his weapons, they entered the arena almost at the same time as Nora and Ren. Both pairs looked at each other with caution, aside from Nora.

More people to blow up.

Once the lighting went down to exclusively illuminate the central ring, the pairs began to slowly, but surely, circle each other. From Nora and Ren's side, there came the quiet footsteps of feet with trainers, and the sound of a grenade launcher hammer being readied. From Robbie and Steven's side, there came the faint knocking sound of Robbie's full ballistic protection alongside the whirling of his shotgun-axes, and the loud, booming footsteps of Steven marching slowly along with a chaingun held at the hip. The four circled for at least a minute, assessing each other. Then, Robbie stopped, hung his axe on his belt, and reached behind to withdraw a small, large-barreled pistol-looking object. It seemed to be a gun. But...it didn't look like a gun for combat. Ren narrowed his eyes slightly in the low light, attempting to discern what his opponent was doing. Nora attempted to copy, but also stopped and took up a defensive stance with her grenade launcher. Robbie grinned, and Steven covered the two small eyeholes on his metal visor.

Then, Robbie aimed at them, and fired.

A brilliant white light accompanied a loud _whoosh_ as a flare tore towards a stunned Ren and Nora. They both quickly shielded their eyes and moved as fast as they could, diving out of the way just as the flare burst loudly behind them. Ren began to stagger back to his feet, rubbing his burning eyes. Blurred vision, and a ringing in his ears were his punishment for not shielding his eyes the moment he figured out just what it was. His hearing was slowly coming back, but slowly.

And through the ringing, he could hear a loud, and very apparent whirring. Flicking his pained eyes to his opponents, he could see that the boy with body armour, 'Robbie', was slipping his flare gun away into his back pocket, and withdrawing his other weapon. The larger of the two, much more apparently armoured in what looked to be a walking tank costume, 'Steven', was spinning up the barrels on the end of the large contraption he was carrying using a crankhandle on the side.

It didn't exactly take a genius to identify what the device was for.

A loud roar caused Ren to dive out the way as a huge wall of shells ripped from the end of Steven's gatling gun, ripping apart the concrete at the end of the room and shattering some of the glass due to the deafening noise that accompanied the hailstorm of bullets. He was aiming the weapon around the arena, forcing those watching to take cover, and Ren and Nora were running like hell. A few stray shots clipped into Ren, and he definitely felt it; Checking his Aura when it became clear that Steven was focusing on Nora, he'd already been knocked down to at least 60% in two hits alone. Slipping his scroll away, he noticed that he was now alone on his side of the arena, Steven exclusively targeting Nora. The grenades she was firing were only partially staggering her opponent, prompting him to only fire back with faster cranks of the handle meaning faster firing, but significantly decreased accuracy. A brief glance upward showed that Cardin Winchester was rubbing his forehead after a stray round went full force forward into his head.

Now was Ren's chance.

Keeping Stormflower ready, he ran forward at speed towards Steven's back, before leaping into the air, raising his blades high, and bringing them down towards his opponent's spine. A loud boom and a huge pain on his right side meant he likely hadn't succeeded, furthered by the fact he was skidding along the floor. Quickly correcting himself, and slamming Stormflower's blades into the concrete, he quickly turned to face his attacker. Pointing a long, sawed-off shotgun at him was the other boy: Robbie. How the hell did he forget about Robbie?

Excellent planning on their part, though.

Ren never saw it coming.

He readied himself as Robbie racked the shotgun pump with one hand, before a flick of his wrist flipped the entire device upside down and revealed a pair of sharp axe heads that were concealed in the receiver. He repeated this with the second shotgun, spinning as he did so, and put himself into a ready position. Ren followed, putting his right hand above his head and his left-hand machine-pistol towards Robbie. His opponent grinned, and began to march towards him with his arms alternating his weapons between shotgun and axe form, each transformation loading another shell into the weapon. Ren began to dodge left and right to avoid incoming pellet storms, occasionally firing back a few shots of his own. However, those that impacted left little more than a few smoldering dents in Robbie's armour and staggered him slightly. Though it did seem they were penetrating; Robbie was now visibly gritting his teeth, and his Aura had fallen below 70%. This didn't discourage him in the slightest, instead prompting the armoured berserker to break into a sprint, yell loudly in rage, and convert his shotguns into axes again as he rapidly approached Ren.

That burst of speed definitely startled Ren, who barely had time to raise his weapons to defend himself as Robbie's axes both slammed down against the notably smaller blades on Stormflower's pistols. Robbie raised one axe off the blades, swinging the next one towards Ren's side. Acting fast, the green warrior parried the strike, taking a step back and moving his other blade into a position where he could parry the next incoming strike. To anyone else, the dual-wielding warriors were but grey and green blurs on the battlefield, sparks flying from the fray and loud metallic clangs as they both parried and struck. After a minute or two, Robbie eventually rolled to the left beneath Ren's double-handed swipe, and got back onto his feet with his axe in its full shotgun form.

Ren almost froze.

He'd made an opening.

Robbie clearly took advantage of this fact; He swept a foot up into Ren's chin, snapping his opponent's head back as he went up into the air from the force of the kick. Robbie prepared his other shotgun, delivering a swift blow to the side of Ren's abdomen and a kick to his stomach, before raising both his shotguns at Ren's chest. Without any pause, Robbie pulled both triggers.

Ren was sent flying backwards, both of Stormflower's pistols slipping from his grip as he finally slammed onto the auditorium floor. He twitched as he landed, chest practically burning with a massive pain. He knew that he'd ultimately be fine, but holy _hell_, it hurt. A column of smoke rose from just beneath his vision as he stared at the ceiling, and the constant yet muffled droning of Steven's gatling gun rang in his ears.

It'd be best if he just lay there.

However, Robbie's victory was pretty short-lived. Before he could gloat, Nora slammed a few grenades into Steven, stunning him enough that he stopped firing. Enraged, she quickly switched Magnhild to its warhammer form and grenade jumped over to Robbie. The armoured boy hardly had time to react: Nora's hammer smashed into him with the force of a million accumulated Paul Walker crashes, sending him flying across the room and smashing him into the concrete wall so hard that he ripped straight through and flew into the locker rooms. The audience watching let out an 'ooooh' of discomfort.

Robbie grunted, trying to pick himself up in the changing rooms. His legs were hardly being responsive, and the fact that he'd noticed Jack, sitting on a locker room bench and polishing a Beretta, wasn't helping. "You're a fucking pussy," Jack stated matter-of-factly. "Pain is just mental. Go fuck her shit up."

"Can't..." Robbie groaned, steadying himself on a nearby coat rack. "No Aura left, I'm out." Jack just laughed.

"Y'know, I'd offer to take your place," he began, "But I just got this pistol. It's all shiny, factory new, and counts kills, so..."

"I get it, I get it," Robbie grunted, sitting down on a bench just opposite his team leader. Peering out the hole he had left, he saw that on the glass banners showing competitors, both he and Ren were greyed out. He then noticed the absurdly intricate Damascus engraving on Jack's pistol. "I get you have a gun fetish, but holy hell, that looks expensive." Jack smiled.

"Don't it just?" he grinned, twirling it around on his finger. "Even weirder that this costs less than a knife."

"Does it?"

"Apparently so. The guy I get this stuff from was charging a good few hundred Lien for a Karambit, and only ten Lien for a battered old AK."

"But was it a nice Karambit?"

"Oh, absolutely. Had a red blade with, like, hexagons on it or some shit. Looked sick."

"Huh. Well, anyway, why were you down here?"

"Eh. Nowhere else to go. Had I have been sat a few feet away from where I am now, I'd have been hit by your weight, bricks, and your ballistic armour. Pretty good decision, eh?"

"...sure."

_**Back in the arena...**_

Nora smiled at her victory. That bastard deserved that: Nobody hurts Ren and gets away with it. The small girl cast a glance back to Steven, who was still recovering from the grenade bombardment, rubbing the two eye holes on his helmet and shaking his head. What he hadn't noticed was that the explosive force had knocked the rotary handle from his chain gun, sending it flying across the room, and he was still attempting to fumble for it as though it were still attached. Nora could almost have smiled even more at watching the bulky, heavily armoured boy trying to grab a handle that wasn't even there.

But she had a task to finish.

For Ren.

Grinning, she switched her hammer back to its grenade launcher form and took aim from the shoulder for the first time in a while. Normally she was content to shoot from the hip, but this was a _personal_ endeavour requiring 40mm precision aiming. Steven saw what she was doing, and largely disapproved. He quickly flicked a nub on the side of his gatling gun, before gripping the ends of the barrels and splitting them apart. Automatically, the central pillar receded, allowing long blades to appear from the inside of the barrel assembly and sprout from the end of the gun barrels. Then, he completely snapped back the grip on the end and forced it into the weapon's body, before pulling it out the top of the weapon. Then he flicked the switch down, and Nora identified exactly what his gun was: A rather long trident that was held from the hip. The barrels already bore the marks of those who had failed to move out of the way of their huge weight, and Nora didn't exactly intend to become one of Steven's new dents.

Seeing an opening, as his weapon had relinquished its ranged capabilities, Nora fired a single grenade at Steven. Her larger opponent raised his trident in a feeble attempt to stop the grenade, however the loud explosion (mixed with the loud metallic clangs of pieces of trident going all over the place) signalled to everybody that the fight was pretty much over. A huge pillar of thick smoke rose from the area that Steven had formerly been standing, and Nora giggled. "You didn't do that much, ya know?" Her cheerfulness was met by small laughter from those around the room, who prepared to applaud, but stopped.

Everyone froze completely.

Nora's smile dropped slightly, and she lowered her launcher. "Uh...are you all OK?" she asked. She was getting worried now. Why had they started looking alarmed?

A large, heavy hand grabbed the top of her head, and a sudden kick threw her launcher from her hand.

"Ohhhhh..." Nora exhaled quietly. "So that's why." A loud grunt from Steven accompanied Nora's cry for help, which was largely ignored as Steven raised her in the air like a ragdoll, and finally smashed her down into the concrete. Once, twice, three times, he continued to smash her against the ground, each impact knocking off large portions of her remaining aura. Once she was down to the orange, lingering on red, Steven raised up his smaller opponent, who was practically crying at this point, and threw her like a javelin into the hole that Robbie had created when he had impacted it. The audience remained largely speechless as the loud cacophony followed of objects being knocked over, and Steven remained in the centre of the arena, breathing heavily in his bomb suit. Nobody could see his face, but people could already guess that he was pretty pissed.

Then, through the silence, there came a single set of applause from none other than the other two members of team JJRS. All eyes fell on James and Jack, who had taken to standing and whooping at their victory. _"Steven Butcher: Kickin' ass and takin' names!"_ Jack yelled, pumping a fist towards Steven, who let out an 'Ooh-rah!' and returned the fist pumping. James banged a few times on his shield and raised a thumb at Steven, who delivered the V of Victory to his teammates. Only a few others around the room dared clap at the victory, under the threat of being called 'sick' by those around them.

Josh sighed. "Fucking imbeciles," he muttered as the lights flicked back on and Professor Goodwytch marched sternly back in.

"Whilst that was an impressive match," she began, tapping on her scroll a few times, "I'm afraid Mrs. Valkyrie and Mr. Butcher will need to have detention for weekend as compensation for the damage done." Steven groaned loudly and spread his arms out in exasperation as a majority of the audience jeered. "And for their rather obnoxious and, quite frankly, idiotic reaction to their teammates' victory, two of our next competitors will be Jack London and James Hillman." The duo gave each other fist-bumps and grinned maniacally.

Well, James did.

"Oh, this isn't gonna end well," Josh muttered.

"Opposing them will be two of our second year students: Coco Adel, and Fox Alistair." The collective student reactions indicated that at least three of the four competitors would go down by the end of the next ten minutes. Jack turned to James.

"We pulling a Phalanx?" he asked as they began to make their way down to the arena. The moderate silence around the audience meant people could hear their conversation.

"Mmm, nah, I'm suggesting we go Miami," James replied. "Or we could whip out a Hiroshima?"

"Eh...I think we could do a Bulldozer. That might work."

"Yeah, I guess it would. You packing the Ex-Wife?"

"Ex-Wife, the In-Law, the Twins, the Johansson..."

"Nah, I'll bring Paltrow, Johansson won't be needed."

"Alright, then that means I'll be able to bring Irvin."

"Ohhhh, Irvin? Fuck, this'll be fun."

Nobody had any idea what it all meant.

Not even their own teammates and friends.

But inevitably, considering it was Jack and James planning it, it wouldn't end well for anybody involved.


	6. As You Do

"This won't go well," Josh whistled, leaning back whilst watching Jack and James entering the arena below. "Get the feeling those two have bitten off too much again." Since he was still recovering from a match against a few Russians two days prior, Josh didn't have his leather armour on. Instead, he was wearing his favourite skinny jeans and plain white shirt. The white shirt had a massive bandage underneath on the right shoulder, where one of his Eastern adversaries had opted to stick a shard of glass through his shoulder.

Naturally, that girl got expelled and arrested. In fact he wasn't sure it was a girl. Whatever: They'd nearly killed him, so he'd been told to take it easy for a few days, and the teachers had been told to go easy on him. After all, Earth humans didn't have the seemingly natural regenerative abilities of most Remnant dwellers, so any undue stress would open the wound again.

At his comment, though, Kurrun looked at him. "I can't tell if you're a fucking idiot or not," began the Asian, "But those two don't lose much. I don't know _**how**_, since they hardly even work together very well, but somehow they keep winning."

"Drugs?" Luke suggested. Kurrun shook his head.

"Couldn't be," he replied as the sound of minigun fire and yelling lit up the arena below. "Jack hates needles and doesn't like tablets. He doesn't smoke or drink, and I don't think he even likes coffee. He's _past_ straight edge. James, on the other hand..."

"He smokes weed, I think. Also drinks a lot." Jade raised a hand. "No idea how he rarely gets drunk. Fucking Eastern Europeans love him, he's their favourite drinking buddy." She paused at the sound of pneumatic hissing and a loud crack noise, then glanced down into the arena. "Guys, Jack brought a lead pipe and a nail gun into an actual fight." Josh turned to look as well, everyone following suit a moment after.

"Fuck me, you're right," he murmured. Then, he shook his head, getting out his phone and unlocking it. "I'm not paying out on his bet." He decided to open his app, and check what popular streams were on.

_**Currently Streaming: Beacon Arena Fights; Two Racist Assholes versus Two Second Year Students**_ _(2,500,000+ viewing live)_

"Holy shit..." Josh sighed. "Last thing James needs is money, Luke. He'd probably spend it on hentai or something."

"Yeah, and you'd spend it on _gay_ hentai," Luke laughed, before gesturing to the unusual fight below. "See? He just _parried_ the blind kid's double knives with a piece of fuckin' plumbin' equipment and then James tasered him. That's worth at _least_ two hundred and fifty quid on You've Been Framed. Send it in, call it 'Who the Fuck Even Fights In a Suit'. Easy money." Just then, someone tapped him on the shoulder, prompting him to turn. Looking back at him, he saw a short-haired young man in a suit.

"Sorry, pal," he began in a thick American accent, genuinely glaring at the Irishman. "But what in the hell have you got against suits? This was a suit given to me by my grandpa from when he helped America win World War 2, and as much as you knock on people in suits, I successfully fight every day with my US Navy SEALS traini-"

"We get it, you vape," Jade snapped, raising a small laugh from around. The American just huffed, folded his arms, and continued thinking his Uncle won Vietnam. Josh rolled his eyes, and began flipping through his phone.

"Anyway, that aside," he began, "Beacon's looking for students from Earth to be guides on a trip to England." Kurrun frowned, and turned to him.

"Why do they want to go to London? It's shit."

"Apparently, there's a plan to send Huntsmen and Huntresses around the country on a speaking tour to explain what the job actually entails, and they want people to look after the other students because they're worried they may not understand Earth culture or get attacked by anti-Remnant-and-Faunus groups."

"So?" Kurrun shrugged. "I went to London and wandered around in the middle of an EDL rally. Some of them were actually really nice people. Probably gonna be the same."

"Yeah, and anyway," Jade spoke up, not taking her eyes off the fight in the arena, "Didn't they change weapon laws for returning Huntsmen? It means we'll be able to carry our weapons around in the streets as long as we have ID." Josh groaned.

"Oh, Jack's gonna _love_ that one..." he muttered. After a moment of silence that was semi-filled by the sound of someone being beaten to the floor with a handbag, Josh sorted his hair. "So...you guys wanna sign up?" The answer was a unanimous mumble of agreement, so Josh shrugged. "Right, then it's settled. Team Jacklodge is going home."

Just then, as if it was plot convenient, the other gathered students loudly _Ooooh_'d at something in the arena, prompting Team JKLJ to look down. To their surprise, Jack and James had done significant damage to their opponents, with Fox and Coco's auras hanging around the 75%-50% mark. James was out of the contest entirely, smashed into his shield so hard it had dented slightly, and left him lying unconscious, slumped against it.

Jack, meanwhile, seemed to be holding out fairly well, parrying against Fox with the lead pipe in his right hand. In his left hand, he was occasionally snapping off nail gun shots towards Coco with a loud pneumatic hiss, prompting her to shift around or get impaled. That went on for a good few seconds, before eventually, Fox crouched low beneath one of Jack's swings, before swiping up violently, slicing the metal road clean in half and throwing Jack backwards, spinning him slightly. In that same movement, Jack converted the unwanted spin into a much harder swing with the half-lead pipe he still held.

As planned, it connected straight into Fox's face, who hadn't expected such a manoeuvre, before Jack followed up by dumping his nail gun, grabbing Fox's collar and kneeing him in the crotch, all whilst constantly smashing him in the face and dragging him over to James' shield. The '**FBI**' marked metal ballistic wall still stood strong in the center of the arena, marked with the many dents and small scratches that Coco's minigun had left. Whilst Jack dragged Fox there, still brutally beating him like an American cop would with an upstanding African-American gentleman, Coco was attempting to get a better angle at which to shoot Jack. She wouldn't have to land many shots, either; He was only holding up at around 30% of his original aura, and there was some limping in his walk.

Upon reaching the shield, the masked man acted quickly: He gripped Fox by the back of his head, then slammed him face first into the shield with a loud, metallic _clang_, before following up with a kick to the back of his knees and continued face slams against the plate. With each impact, Fox was losing about 5% of his aura, rapidly changing it from the yellowish green he had been on when Team JKLJ started watching to the bloodied red James was on.

Jack quickly glanced up to check how he was doing. "Aaand you're done," he said quickly, before pulling Fox away from the wall. The brown-skinned second year student staggered backwards, attempting to retain his balance. Jack, meanwhile, chucked his lead pipe away, reached into his suit jacket, and withdrew a pair of Berettas, flicking the safeties off and cocking the hammers. Upon raising them up to a ready state, Jack raised his boot and kicked Fox straight in the chest and onto the floor, before beginning to fire his handguns at Coco. The girl dived to the side, a few 9mm bullets striking her arm, and raised her machine gun, beginning to spray bullets towards Jack, who responded by starting to run out of the way whilst firing back at her, zig-zagging towards her and ducking beneath bullets.

Upon reaching a good distance, Jack jumped up into the air, levelled his pistols down at Coco, and prepared to drop-kick her. "Let's fuckin' go!" yelled the Englishman. Coco narrowed her eyes.

She was ready.

She switched her minigun back into its handbag form, then swept it to the side, standing in a ready position. Then, she lifted her foot straight into Jack's crotch as he flew into it, and was followed by Coco forcing him onto the ground. The audience, Professor Goodwytch included, voiced their cringes and laughter as Coco stood triumphantly on top of her opponent, looking him in the eyes. She smirked, and lowered her sunglasses. "Now you stay there like the little bitch you are."

Jack emitted a growling noise behind his mask, limply raised his right Beretta, and weakly fired a shot into her kneecap. Coco winced, and was about to step on him for further humilation, but by then, the lights had come on, and Professor Goodwytch was walking in with a smirk on her face.

"Congratulations, Miss Adel," she began, "That was the most humiliating defeat I've seen yet." The girl in the beret gave a nod.

"Appreciated, Professor."

The teacher then looked smugly down at Jack.

"And Mr. London, I suggest that next time, you don't try to pick fights with students that are more experienced than you. I suggest you try a first year, next time."

Jack just pulled his mask off, and spat blood towards Professor Goodwytch. She stepped back, but that didn't stop splatter from getting on her shoes. "Tell this cunt to stop standing on me before I break her ankles, then yours." The audience let out an _'Ooooooooh'_, and Professor Goodwytch folded her arms.

Josh's phone buzzed. He pulled it out, and looked.

_**XiaoLongStreams IS STREAMING ON TWITCH: Goodwytch and Asshole Student squaring off in Beacon arena, GUARANTEED SEXUAL HUMILIATION!**_

"Oh, Jesus Christ."

Just then, the bell rang to signal the end of the period.

_**A few days later...**_

"So, Jack," Josh began looking over at his fellow team leader whilst they ate their dinner. "How're those 'Extracurricular Activities' with Professor Goodwytch going?" The rest of the table began chuckling quietly as Jack gripped his cutlery tighter. It was glaringly obvious he was gritting his teeth. After swallowing his food, Jack glared at Josh.

"Do I need to remind you that I know where your parents live, Josh?" he retorted sharply. "I'm sure they'd appreciate a visit, which I will, if you don't shut your fucking trap." Josh raised his hands defensively, still grinning.

"Calm down, just asking," he whistled, returning to his food. "And anyway, I thought you'd be gloating about being in a locked classroom. Just you, and Professor Goodwytch. You know, the woman who's likely not had sex for a few years." Jack tilted his head as everyone else began chuckling.

"Don't get it."

"How can you _**not get it**_?" Kurrun groaned. "She's literally the definition of a Cougar!" At that moment, Jade tapped Kurrun on the shoulder.

"I'd quieten down, Kurrun," she whispered, "She's in the room and echo in here is ridiculous." Quickly, Kurrun looked over his shoulder to see that their blonde bombshell teacher was pacing up and down the aisles, keeping an eye out for trouble whilst idly flicking the end of her riding crop. The Asian boy covered his mouth and looked back to the centre of the table, concealing his laughter.

"_Oh shit!_" he sputtered, as everyone else began quietly laughing. Once it died down, nobody spoke for a while, instead choosing to eat their dinners in near-silence. Finally, James leaned forward.

"I don't know if any of you lot realized it," he began, "But that trip to London is probably a cover-up for something."

"Doubt it," Robbie said calmly, chewing his food. "If they were gonna do something illegal, what the fuck would they bring Beacon students for?"

"Maybe they want Earth-dwellers for enforcement?" Jack suggested, turning a few eyes. "Think about it, England's not the most 'Remnant-dweller-friendly' place. If you're gonna be bringing a whole load of important people from Remnant to England, who'd you get to defend them that knows the place?"

"Earth-dwellers..." Josh murmured, tapping his fork on his plate thoughtfully. He looked up. "You've sort of got a point. Doesn't make sense why they're going to England though. It'd make more sense to go to, say, Japan, where they've kind of still got a 'warrior culture'." Luke groaned, and leaned on the table, rubbing his forehead.

"Ugh, don't remind me," he sighed, "Those Japs are fucking scary if they get too close." Steven nodded.

"Before that fight, I thought that ninja swords actually _were_ useless. Evidently not." Jack tilted his head side to side.

"In fairness, Luke doesn't wear much in the way of armour," he mused, scratching the section of his chin where there was the least burn scars. "Katanas were designed more as a status symbol and slashing weapon than for actual combat. They'd only see use in decapitating peasants that didn't bow to Samurai or some other things."

"Thanks for the info, you fucking Weeb," Jade snorted. "I'm sure your parents are proud of your knowledge of a culture that's not yours."

"Sod off, bitch, at least I can _spell_ culture." Jade glared at Jack, and he reciprocated.

"Sorry, but who's the one here with an intact face?" Jade grinned, baring teeth and stretching the blistered skin on the left of his face. The rest of their friends at the table rolled their eyes.

"You, unfortunately," Jack retorted sharply. "It's a damn shame we have to suffer through that for a good few more years until someone inevitably shoots you."

"Just stop arguing, my God..." Josh sighed, leaning onto the table.

"Fuck off, poshy," Jade snapped.

"Yeah, stupid twat, stay out of it. Jade, can you believe this mug?"

"Nah, he's a right prick."

"Least you're not arguing, now..." Josh smirked, just as his phone buzzed. He reached into his pocket, withdrew it, and pressed the home button.

**Weiss Schnee**: _You still up for studying later?_

He thought for a moment. She'd approached him a few days before to organize some studying. They'd spoken a slight more after they'd been in the library the other day, but it turns out they were fairly similar. He was happy to go, but he didn't know about the rest of his team. He turned to them. "Guys, we're still good for doing that studying later, right?" he asked. Jade, Luke, and Kurrun looked at each other, then nodded.

"Maybe," Luke shrugged, before looking over at Team JJRS opposite. "You guys good for it?" Jack waved a dismissive hand.

"Can't; I need to go pick up some stuff from Vale docks," he replied, turning to his team. "Could do with help. Any of you lads fancy coming along and giving us a hand with some gear?" Steven and Robbie shook their heads. James, however, gave a nod.

"Alright, it's away from here, at least."

"Alright, it's settled. James, we should probably get the next airship out to Vale." The Welshman gave a nod, and they prepared to get up from the table. James gestured to the other six.

"You lot have fun, eh?" he grinned. As they walked down the aisle, Jack looked at a very large group of students that were near the door, and gave a whistle. All of them, about seventeen or eighteen in total, gave a nod, and got up from their seats to follow behind. James, meanwhile, shot a look of confusion back at JJ and JKLJ.

They all just shrugged, watching James, Jack, and roughly eighteen shifty-looking characters disappear out the door. The move had gained quite a few looks from most of the students in the hall, who were now peering curiously over to the door where the arrogant Englishman had disappeared through. A few eyes went to Team JKLJ, a few to Robbie and Steven, and then they carried on eating.

Josh looked at everyone else, then shook his head. "James is gonna get raped."

"It's not so bad," Luke whistled, reclining back slightly. "Normally, Jack brings home a load of weapon parts and stuff from Earth. Remember when I bought that AR-15 from the States before I came here?" Everyone nodded. "Semi-auto only. US law said it'd have to be. So what does Jack get hold of? A pre-'86 full-auto sear for it. Perfectly legal."

"Yeah?" Josh retorted, his look of sarcastic interest on his face. "Well, he tried to invite me with him to go visit Roger Mugabwe, and _then_ sent me a Thompson that was used by that Dillinger guy from the US. Jack, of all people, should know I prefer one-handed grips, not two."

Luke made a 'pfft' noise. "I'll bet you like a one-handed and firm gri-"

"Shut up, you fucking pikey."


End file.
